


Seeing (isn't always believing)

by msgenevieve



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Companion Piece, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more than one way to be proven wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing (isn't always believing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribblecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribblecat/gifts).



> My partner in crime Scribblecat asked me to write a short story to go with her first Ichabod/Abbie artwork. I can never say no to her. It's set in that mysterious time and place that exists to make PWP writers happy - the unspecified. Please visit Scribblecat's tumblr to see her beautiful Ichabod/Abbie artwork that is DEFINITELY not safe for work here: http://the4winds.tumblr.com/post/66359779766

~*~

She'd once told him that she only believed in what she could see. That she didn't believe in magic.

He - and the maelstrom of death and fear that had quickly surrounded them - has proven her wrong, time and time again.

But there are other, more enjoyable, ways to be proven wrong. 

She'd forgotten that there is a form of magic to be found in the ordinary world. Magic unseen, and yet no less real, rediscovered in the heated slide of flesh against flesh, in the thrum of blood beneath skin taut with anticipation, in the ache of arousal that stings your very bones. 

Behind her eyelids, she imagines the sparks that flare at the touch of his roughened fingertips across her belly, the brush of magic that sinks into her skin, a siren's song that beckons and teases, her spine arching as though being pulled by invisible, golden strings. His mouth covers hers in a languid blur of teeth and tongue and coffee and toothpaste, the ordinary becoming extraordinary, a heady elixir that pulls the breath from her body and softens her bones. Her breasts are slick against his chest, her fingernails digging into the tight curve of his ass, and she thinks that if he doesn't start moving soon, she might just melt into nothingness just like the freaking Wicked Witch. 

"Patience is still a virtue, surely," he murmurs against her ear when she twists restlessly beneath him, his warm breath raising goosebumps everywhere. She opens her mouth to retort in kind but he starts to move against her, above her, the rigid thrust of his erection pressing into the tender ache between her thighs, hide and seek, advance and retreat, burning her through thin, damp cotton, and all her words dissolve, leaving only his name, a thick stutter on her tongue.

"Crane-"

His only answer is a smile, his lips curving warmly against hers, his hand sliding into her hair to hold her in thrall with the lightest touch. When he kisses her again, she knows that seeing isn't always believing, and finally understands just how powerful ordinary magic can be.

~*~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Not so Sleepy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110712) by [Scribblecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribblecat/pseuds/Scribblecat)




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